Life in images

The Prokaryotes lab at school has a fridge where we toss all the cultures we won't use anymore, and they'll dunked in chlorine or something at the end of the semester. I like this fridge because, even though it reeks (badly, and you kind of don't want to inhale all the stuff that's been sitting there for months), it has these totally awesome red bags that have the biohazard symbol on them and say "Danger, biological waste" or something to that effect. Those bags are freaking cool.

Last week I found a little family of threads hanging out in my lab coat pocket, so I cut them off and wrapped them around my finger. They looked like a little old guy, so I drew a face on my finger. See? He has a little beard and cute, tufty old-guy hair.

I went to the Geology museum on Sunday with my Philosophy and History of Biology (mouthful) class. Our museum guide was totally cool. Firstly, he had a really long ponytail. Also, on top of his blue museum T-shirt, he had one of those green vests with all the pockets on it, and they were full of rocks which he kept pulling out to show us. On top of that he was wearing this big, black overcoat and a matching black fedora hat (he looked a bit lumpy from the rocks, at certain angles). While he spoke, he kept on taking his hat off, twirling it around, and putting it on all the rocks. And then he'd pick them up and sort of cradle them. The coolest thing of all, though, was his velociraptor necklace.

It's pictured on a bit of a boring-shaped rock here, but it stood atop amorphous ones, too.

Christmas list so far

1. A lab coat with the Science Department logo embroidered on it. My current lab coat is all cheap and fits gross.

2. A stapler.

Delirious

Today my friend told me that she stayed up really late last night doing homework. She was at that stage where you keep nodding off in front of the screen, and then you wake up and try to read what you just wrote and then nod off again, and do that several times until you've read the same eight words about twelve times.

But, she says, at one point she managed to write through the sleep-wake-sleep cycle, and when she found herself properly awake, she discovered that she had typed up some nonsense about Gram-negative bacteria... for her Philosophy homework.

Something similar happened to me a few nights ago. I had stayed up really late (as usual), and when my mom tried to get me out of bed I remember mumbling, "I can't get up, I'm thinkiiiiing...!". Because I was convinced that I had reached some sort of deeper understanding about cell walls, that this would change our perception of them forever.

Mom didn't buy it, though, and told me I could think standing up. Supportive.

Swat

My Prokaryotes lab prof has this habit of looking mostly at me when he adresses the group or my team, because I'm the only one that consistently pays attention.

So today he was talking and, as usual, he was standing at the front of the room and talking to me 90% of the time (no joke. I mean, only like 3 other people were listening). He had picked up this flannel square to open the autoclave, and then kept flicking it around absentmindedly to swat the stair railing, the table, the air... when he noticed me trying not to laugh he swatted me and set it down.

But I still think it's funny.

Guess what!

...these feet are old enough to tread the cold, hard floors of jail. Only not in these socks (are there special jail-uniform socks? Are they orange? That'd be cool!).

Also, upon entering jail, they'd have to bring along anything organic and living attached to them, which just SUCKS if you're a torso. Oh, except if the organic, living thing were a snail or a leech. They could probably jump ship and nobody would notice. Toenail fungus would have to lump it, though. And of course bacteria. And, well, a whole lotta stuff.

Actually, never mind about the organic, feet-dwelling organisms.

The gist of it is, these feet are 18 years old now. They're adult feet!

Also, I feel about as mature as I did when I was 11. Shit, I'm never gonna grow up, am I??

Disadvantage of living in Mexico City

It took me 30 minutes to get to school this morning, and 3 hours to get back. Most of them I spent on the bus, sandwiched between fat ladies who thought they could squeeze into spaces where they clearly couldn't.